


Do Not Cry

by Nabielka



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-30
Updated: 2010-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-13 11:23:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nabielka/pseuds/Nabielka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul Karofsky is still alive, but that doesn't mean he's still living.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do Not Cry

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Glee Song Meme over at Livejournal.

Do not cry.

Step out of the car and slam the door roughly, the way your son once pushed classmates. Press the lock button. _Beep, beep._

Walk through the dirty snow. Take out your keys and unlock the door.

Step inside. Close the door and lock it. Put keys back into your pocket.

Take coat off. Hang on the peg by the door. Look at David's letterman jacket hanging next to your waterproof jacket.

Do not cry.

Open the fridge. Take out last night's take-away. Open microwave door and carefully set the time. Close the microwave door.

David always hated Chinese.

_Beep, beep._

Open the microwave door and take out the container. Put it on the wooden table, next to the cutlery. Grab a bottle of beer you'd bought from the local off-license the day before it happened.

Do not turn on the television. That's what your son would have done.

Do not cry.

Eat tasteless food, then throw container into the half-full bin. Throw cutlery into the sink, because it doesn't matter. Washing up is no longer one of David's chores.

Drain the bottle then throw it away. Grab another one from the fridge. Drain. Throw away. Grab a bottle. Drain. Throw away.

Carry on until you stop thinking that David would have wanted some too.

Do not cry.

Look at the picture of David lying on the table. Letterman jacket and a sullen teenage scowl. Do not think of him on the floor of his room, slimy white stuff leaking out of the enormous hole in his head, hand grasping the handle of the revolver you kept in the attic. Do not think of the blood, even though it's all you see it whenever you close your eyes.

Drain another bottle. Perhaps it will help you forget for a while.

Do not cry.

Do. Not. Cry.

Stay strong for yourself, even though it wasn't enough for him.


End file.
